Winter Ice
by SmallSerpent
Summary: Sirius Black had planned on a very long and very agonizing winter break with his family... Then he met his new cousin, and nothing ever goes as expected when Lucius Malfoy decides to change the plans. 'Tis slash, of course.
1. Three Weeks Away From Home

**Title: Winter Ice**

**Summary: Sirius Black had planned on a very long and very agonizing winter break with his family... Then he met his new cousin, and nothing ever goes as expected when Lucius Malfoy decides to change the plans. 'Tis slash, of course. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything you see here, and I do not make any money off of it. **

**Author's Note: **

**1. You know you want to try saying "wealthy Wiltshire wizard" ten times fast.**

**2. For those of you who are easily confused on ages: The Marauders are fifteen, meaning this just before Sirius ran away. Regulus is thirteen, and Lucius and Narcissa are nineteen.**

**3. This is meant to be a short series. I know I said that about My Father's Child too, but I mean it here. I actually have it carefully planned out so that it won't stretch past what I want it to. **

**4. Yes, I'm putting Sirius on the Gryffindor team as Seeker (James was a Chaser).**

**5. This first part is in fact slightly irrelevant to everything. The thing is, I have this nasty habit of neglecting Peter and Remus when I write Marauders fics, so now I can say they were at least _in_ this one, if only for a little bit. **

* * *

"_Padfoot_!" The werewolf jumped to his feet, gagging, and flung their compartment window open.

"Moony!" James replied with just as much anger, giving his friend barely enough time to pull his fingers away before slammed the window shut again, "It's **December**."

"If he's smoking the window's open." The prefect said flatly, sliding the object in question over only an inch this time. He resumed his seat near the door, across from Peter, breathing through his scarf and muttering something about his friends being rude.

"And you're a pansy," Sirius snapped, shifting away from the cold air, but leaving the window open to suck out the smoke.

"I have a heightened sense of smell!" Remus shot back, "What's **your** excuse for not being able to handle a little cold?"

"Do I need one?" Sirius asked dully, flicking his ashes out the window. "I can kick your ass."

"Rawr." Peter growled, knowing his friend would never go through with the threat, "Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning."

Peter's seat-mate leaned back and stared across at his best friend for a moment. "You're right," James told Peter finally. "Padfoot, what's got you so stressed out?"

"We're leaving school _behind_ for three weeks," Peter reminded him. "What's there to stress about?"

"Stuff." Was their only answer.

"What kind of stuff?" Remus asked. He was used to the other boy's foul-tempered but insincere insults. By now he understood that sulking was pointless.

The Black heir took a long drag of his cigarette before answering. "Family stuff."

And that was enough for James.

"What kind—" Peter began, but their co-leader silenced him.

"_Wormtail_," James hissed. "Drop it... Has anyone seen Evans around? I'd like to see her again before we all go home for three weeks."

"You missed your chance." Remus said flatly, "I talked to her about the holidays for a minute when we worked together in Charms yesterday. She's staying this year."

"And you didn't tell me?! Mooney, how could you..."

And Sirius let their shallow fight rage on, fading into the back of his mind. Three weeks. Three weeks at home was never pleasant. Three weeks _away_ from home was going to be even worse. Sirius' cousin Narcissa had just been married off to some wealthy Wiltshire wizard, and they had insisted (which in the world of the wizarding elite meant that neither of them had wanted it at all, but everyone else had told them they should) on hosting the entire Black family for the holidays.

Sirius didn't know very much about his cousin's new husband, and that was fine with him. She had gotten married in late October, while Sirius was away at school, so he had never even _seen_ the heir of the illustrious Malfoy line before. While the latter would surely be changed very early on in the holidays, he intended to keep the earlier statement true. In less than two years Sirius would be old enough to get away from these people. In the mean time, the last thing Sirius Black needed was one more pretentious pure-blood in his life.

He sighed, and ignored Remus' glare as his smoke washed over the werewolf.

Three weeks. Twenty one days... but it would be late when he and Regulus arrived at Malfoy Manor tonight, and they would leave early on the morning they were to return to school, so it was more like nineteen days. Knowing how large the guest quarters were in those ancient manors were, he could probably avoid everyone _most_ of the time, but he supposed he would have to eat occasionally... take nineteen and multiply it by three, and that was... twenty and three was sixty, so nineteen and three was... **fifty-seven**. Even if he could 'accidentally' over-sleep or something and miss breakfast every morning (allowable in some situations, but this probably wasn't one of them) that still left... fuck math. Thirty something meals he would **have** to attend with all of them.

"...Right, Padfoot?" Sirius was pulled from his thoughts by Peter's annoying half-hearted smile.

"No," He snapped, feeling it was always better safe than sorry with Peter. At the confused looks of the other three, he went ahead and asked, "...What?"

"The gifts," Peter explained, "I figured with a family like yours they must be pretty good."

Sirius snorted. "Then my answer stands."

"Really?" Peter asked.

"No, Wormtail," Remus brushed it off. "The Blacks are one of the richest family in London. I doubt there's ever a bare spot under their tree come Christmas morning. He's just in a bad mood. Leave him be."

"**You** leave me be, Mooney. I meant it."

"How could you possibly—"

"Do you know what my parents got me for my fifteenth birthday?"

The werewolf paused. "...No."

"And there's a good reason for that." Not including the gifts that James so very generously showered his friends in every year, Sirius' fifteenth birthday had yielded a very long book on wizarding genealogy, ten new dress-robes varied in colors but equal in stupidity, another, shorter, book on witches' poetry from the thirteenth century "guaranteed to woo any pure-woman into your marriage bed", and a card from Regulus wishing that his next fifteen years "...be just as dark and as pure as these last fifteen!" Christmas was unlikely to be any more fruitful.

Remus held up his hands in surrender, "Sorry."

"Whatever."

And from there things passed in relative silence for a while. Remus decided to get his homework done now and not worry about it over the rest of break, James pulled out a miniature Quaffle and began throwing it at the wall above Sirius' head and catching it when it came back, Peter buried his nose in some comic book, and Sirius continued sulking. Sirius finished his cigarette and contemplated smoking another, but restrained himself for Remus' sake (and so that he could shut the window and keep his fingers). The trolly passed by, and James and Peter split a box of Bertie Bott's Beans while Sirius and Remus passed on food altogether. Sirius became fully aware of just how bad his depression was when a trio of Hufflepuff girls came in to congratulate him and James on their victory over Ravenclaw in the last Quidditch match, and he couldn't even bother himself to flirt with them (which they seemed to find deeply troubling).

The sun was just starting to set when there was a knock at their compartment door. The group collectively sighed, expecting another troop of giggling females (which Peter and Remus hated because said females always ignored them, James hated because he didn't seem to understand that it wasn't infidelity if he wasn't actually going out with Evans yet, and Sirius just wasn't in the mood for them right now.) but Peter opened the door for them no less.

It was actually much worse than they'd expected.

"You need to change into your dress robes now," Regulus Black said, not even looking at any boy but his brother. His nose was twitched up, in a very good imitation of their mother, as though this entire area of the train _reeked_ with bad blood. The thirteen year old himself was already in a perfectly fitted and ironed sky blue dress-robe which brought out what little trace of actual color there was in his eyes.

"Oh," Sirius said, sounding very rehearsed and not even attempting not to, "Was I supposed to bring that robe along?" His dearest mother had sent him one of his new robes via owl mail earlier this month, with a note telling him that he was to wear it when he went to meet Lord Malfoy. Naturally, Sirius had been very careful to leave it in his school trunk.

"Yes," Regulus sighed. Disappointment was evident in his voice. Surprise was no where to be found.

"What a shame." Sirius yawned, stretched his arms (at least as much as he could without slapping the wall or appearing to make a move on Mooney) and leaned back in his seat in boredom. "I guess I'll just have to meet Narcissa's new squeeze in this." He gestured to his uniform robes.

"Don't you dare call him that in front of mother." Regulus said flatly, "She'll kill you... Anyway, lucky for you, you won't."

"Won't I?" Sirius asked, "I don't think I'll fit in anything of yours."

"You won't have to. Mother sent **me** one of your robes too." He glared, "She had a feeling you might forget."

"Ah, clever woman, our mother." Sirius sighed, not moving. "She forgot one thing, though."

"What's that?" The third year snapped.

Sirius smirked. "Alright. So you have one of my robes. Now let's see you make me put it on."

"Sirius!" The boy moaned, "Come on! This is important to mother and to Cissy!" Narcissa and Regulus had a very good relationship, despite their age difference, because she, like everyone else in the family, adored him and never missed a chance to shower him with sweets and compliments when she visited.

Remus sighed, "Just go, Padfoot. Your mum's just going to make you anyway. You may as well spare yourself the row."

Regulus accidentally allowed his eyes to flick down on the boy who'd spoken for half of a second before he reminded himself that these people were the untouchables of wizarding society.

"What business is it of yours?" Sirius demanded of the werewolf, "I happen to **like** having rows with my mother. It assures me I'm on the right path in life."

Regulus rolled his eyes dramatically.

"Well I'm trying to concentrate." The more motivated boy hissed, gesturing to his Arithmancy work. "And I can't do that while sitting in the middle of a Black sibling rivalry row."

"I don't—" Sirius began, but he was cut off.

"Just go, Padfoot," James told him softly. He smiled sympathetically when Sirius looked betrayed, "It's the holidays. We all have to do family crap we don't want to. I have to spend Christmas morning with my great aunt, and her entire house smells really weird and she has these cats that..." He shook his head, brushing off some unpleasant or unimportant thought, "Well, anyway, you're not helping anyone by fighting the inevitable. Give Mooney a break."

Sirius sighed. James was the only one on the train who could change his mind, and he had spoken. "Let's go then, Regulus."


	2. Meeting Malfoy

Sirius Black lived in two different worlds.

The first was the world inside the Gryffindor Common Room at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. This was the world Sirius loved, and the world where he was, in return, loved. He hadn't discovered it until he was eleven years old, but the moment he had, he declared **it** his permanent home. It was a world of true magic and real love, beyond the two-dimensional familial fealty that Sirius had been raised around. It was a world that he had always known existed, but had never believed he'd be able to find. It was not a quiet world, but it was a sane world.

The second was the world of Number Twelve Grimwald Place. That was the world that he had lived in all of his life, yet with every semester at Hogwarts it felt stranger and stranger to him. Foreign. Wrong. It was the world where everyone dressed funny, in frilly silver robes that clung so tightly to their bodies they couldn't breath. It was the world where everyone spoke a foreign language of riddles and lies. It was a world where everyone was so afraid of **each other** that they married **their cousins** to keep the wealth and secrets in the family. Sirius couldn't trust this world, and he didn't like it.

Unfortunately, it was also the world he was stuck in until he was seventeen, or until he lost his sanity and they finally granted him the much-longed-for mercy of a padded room in St. Mungos.

Unfortunately, it was the world he now inhabited, as his mother straightened his dress robe one final time, and he stared at his feet in the entrance hall to Malfoy Manor.

"Auntie Walburga!" Narcissa's musical voice filled the room as a pair of French doors were flung open and the blond glided into the room, wrapped in her own emerald dress robes. She kissed the woman in question before turning to the other members of the family, "And uncle Orion!" a kiss landed on the cheek of her uncle. "It's so wonderful to see you all." She smiled at Sirius and Regulus.

"It's nice to see you, too, Cissy," Regulus replied sweetly.

Sirius continued to stare at his feet. His polished black shoes contrasted with shining white rich marble tile. In the tile he could just make out small triangular designs in the lightest shade of green known to man...

"_Sirius_," Orion Black hissed, and a hard slap met the back of the Black heir's head.

Sirius growled under his breath, but forced himself to look up at Narcissa and flash and obviously forced smile. "Yeah. Long time no see. We've missed you and shit."

Another hand landed on the back of his head. This time it was his mother's, which was much more painful. "Sirius Orion Black," The woman said in that tight voice that meant that usually foreshadowed severe pain, "I will not have you talking like that in this house. You will drop that attitude right this instant, and if I see it again for the rest of the break—"

"Auntie," Narcissa shook her head slowly, "It's Christmas. Let it pass."

Sirius' mother glared at her.

"It's just Sirius." All eyes fell on Sirius disapprovingly. _Just_ Sirius. Disobedient and rude as a rule, and damn proud of it.

"I won't have him behaving like this in front of your husband."

"Nonsense, auntie," She grabbed the woman's hands and led her deeper into the house, "He understands. Come, he's in the second floor study."

_He understands_? She said that as though she had sat this guy down and flat-out told him that Sirius was an ungrateful little blood-traitor who was not to be trusted or in any way entertained. The nerve of the woman! It was true, of course, but it was the principle of the matter.

As Narcissa led them up to the second floor, Sirius contemplated making some kind of Special Edition Marauders Map for this place. It was large enough that any kind of map would be useful, and one that would help him avoid everyone would be a dream come true... but no. Unfortunately the charm on the original Map that tracked everyone's whereabouts had been Mooney's brain child, and Sirius wasn't sure that he could entirely remember the spell... Better to take his chances with his family than with a spell he wasn't sure of.

"Ah, Orion Black..." Sirius' eyes flicked over to the wizard who had spoken.

His heart stopped.

It wasn't wasn't a romantic love-at-first-sight sort of thing. He wasn't floating on clouds and seeing the world through rose colored glasses. It wasn't even a passionate _lust_ at first sight. His blood didn't roast and nothing inside of him screamed at him that he _must_ have that blond haired beauty right this instant.

It was more like being flattened by a train, or flying at full speed into a jagged stone wall. It was an overwhelming jolt that woke Sirius up when he most needed and wanted to sleep. It was simply a sudden, crashing realization that this man, this pure-blood who Sirius had his heart set on hating, looked _good_ in a way that such awful people should not be allowed to.

But it was just one more reason to hate the bastard's guts, really. The balls of the man, to go and make himself look that good in his stupid clingy dark blue dress robes, with his stupid hair tied back with some stupid black ribbon, when he knew good and well that Sirius was going to be coming. It was almost as though he'd done it on purpose.

Sirius watched the man shake hands with both of his parents. He knew that it wasn't Lucius Malfoy's fault that Lucius Malfoy was drop dead gorgeous, but Sirius had been expecting not to find **anything** about this man even remotely appealing, and now that he had found something very appealing about him the first second they were in the same room.... Well, Sirius wasn't about to own up to liking anything about someone from his parent's circles of his own accord, and if Sirius couldn't blame himself, who did that leave to blame? Perhaps Lucius' parents. If they hadn't shagged so recklessly then Lucius wouldn't exist, Narcissa wouldn't have married Lucius, and Sirius could have gone his entire life believing that **all** pure-blood elitists were either ugly old hags, or his cousin.

But Sirius recovered from his shock quickly. Good looks were only that. Beneath that smooth light skin there was, Sirius was sure, a very ugly creature indeed.

"And you must be young Sirius." The aristocrat held his hand out.

Sirius didn't take it, and instead looked up and glared defiantly at the tall blond. "Yeah, that'd be me."

Malfoy moved his hand slightly closer. "Heir to my wife's most noble bloodline?"

Sirius was so surprised by the comment that he wasn't able to stop himself from laughing out loud. He hoped for his host's sake that he wasn't trying to flatter him. "Only if I can't convince them to disown me soon."

"Oh you _would_ like that, wouldn't you." Orion Black had a vise grip on his older son's wrist in an instant. Sirius attempted and failed to pull away when his hand was thrust toward Lucius Malfoy's offered one.

"_Yes_, I would!" Sirius told him, still trying to pull away, "**That's** what I want for Christmas, _father_." Still not having any luck pulling away, Sirius contented himself with simply closing his fist. Malfoy could shake his hand if it would please him, but Sirius was going to make it clear that he was not a willing participant.

But Malfoy **didn't** take Sirius' hand.

The blond stared at Sirius' tightly balled fist for a moment, looking troubled, before he pulled his own hand back slightly and looked up at Orion, looking slightly embarrassed. "Thank you, Mr. Black, but I can handle my own introductions."

Sirius felt his father's grip loosen for a moment, then fall away from his wrist completely.

Sirius was so stunned that for a moment he just stared at his own outstretched arm, and the bruises forming on his wrist. His muscles relaxed. He was almost in a trance-like state, wondering if the head of a _dark_ family had really just come to his rescue.

And then Lucius took his hand. His grip was intentionally not very firm, and Sirius could have pulled away easily if he'd wanted.

But Sirius **didn't** want to. At least not actively. The blond wizard uncurled his fingers and slid their hands together, and Sirius just watched it as though it were happening to someone else.

And as Lucius shook Sirius' hand, _something_ swept though the younger boys mind. It was more real than deja-vu, but not as sure as a memory. He had done this before. He had met this man...

And then it was gone.

"It's alright," And Sirius wasn't sure if Malfoy was speaking to him or to his parents, "I went through that phase too." The older wizard returned a lock of Sirius' hair that had been upset during Sirius' struggle with his father back to it's rightful place, and smiled darkly. "It's nice to meet you, Sirius Black," Lucius Malfoy said quietly.

Sirius pulled away. _That __**phase**__? Yeah right._ "Burn in—"

"What is wrong with you?" His mother demanded, grabbing Sirius' mouth and shooting apologetic looks at Sirius new cousin. "Go to you room!" And her voice took on a disturbingly sweet tone when she turned to the only other witch in the room, "—Narcissa, be a dear and have an elf show Sirius to his room now, will you?"

"Yes auntie." She turned and summoned the creature in question, but Sirius didn't get to see what she said to it, because his mother went on.

"...and when I am done down here you and I are going to have a **very** serious talk."

_Ah. Serious talks. Those are always fun. _

He had no idea.


	3. Sealed With A Kiss

**Author's Note:**** Yes, I know, it has taken a terribly long time for me to update this, but unfortunately my school's History Club and Speech and Debate Team's (yes, I'm an ultra-geek) season has started, and since I waited until the last minute to write and memorize a three-page speech (not to mention making myself sick with nervousness), that's been kind of eating my life. And then I had Finals, which was almost as much fun (I was so stressed that I threw up at least four out five days, and THREE TIMES on Thursday)... but they're over now. So now I have more time to update (in between the mandatory Holiday Time Visits With Family, of course), and here I am... updating. I'm aware that I am very much overdue for an update on My Father's Child, and that is coming too, I promise... **

**I'm sorry that the bit with Lucius and Narcissa turned out so long. I hadn't originally meant for it to, but... Oh. It just sort of happened, and now we'll all just have to deal with it. But now the actual Lucius/Sirius love(-type-thing) starts! Yay! **

_

* * *

_

Dearest Prongs,

_I'm never going to forgive you for this. How could you just sit back and watch me do something so stupid? You know that I hate going home for the holidays, so why in Merlin's name would you allow me to? You're my best mate, man. I think you could do a slightly better job of looking after me. I would never let you do something like this. _

_Alright, so, I suppose I should tell you what's actually going on, given that all you know now is what you were able to figure out from my fight with Regulus. Well, my cousin Narcissa (Do you remember her? The blonde Snake that always used to tell me about how I'm breaking my mother's heart when she caught us together?) got married to this stupid wizard in Wiltshire, so now instead of having our dorm all to myself for three weeks, or even locking myself in my room in London, I get to spend three weeks with them and my parents, my brother, my aunt and uncle (exact clones of my parents, only they're a few years older and uncle Cygnus hits harder than my father), my cousin Bellatrix (You don't know her, but if you remember Narcissa, take all of her negative qualities and multiply them by ten, and you'll have a pretty good idea of what her older sister's like), Bella's stupid husband, and I think they have even more guests coming closer to Christmas! It's a nightmare. _

_Good Gryffindor, if the people alone weren't enough to deal with, this place itself is awful. I only first set foot in it an hour or so ago, but I already hate it. It's one of those really old and really huge manors that must have been built at least in the early Dark Ages, if not a few centuries before that. My room is filled with portraits of these stupid pure-bloods who seem to have nothing better to do than analyze me all the time and tell me what's wrong with me. There's this one who, I kid you not, tells me once every five minutes that I need a hair cut or that my robes are out of style. He doesn't seem to have noticed that five hundred years (it's dated) have passed since he was painted. But I don't suppose he would have. This place is so large, and I don't think anyone lives here but Narcissa and her husband (and possibly his father? I haven't been here for long enough to even figure out if he's alive or not, and I'm not asking...) so I swear half of the house, my room included, hasn't been visited by humans in at least a few generations. Oh, and my room was fucking freezing when I got here. No one bothered to link it up with the heat-transfer spell that's on the rest of the house (I guess in a lot of these old manors they usually only heat the part of it that they normally use, so that they don't have to constantly keep ten or more fires going) or light a fire before I got here. I lit one myself when I got in here, but it's still warming up. I'd complain to someone, but I know Cissy did it on purpose and she'll just blame the elf anyway, and if I tell they'll probably put me in charge of having the thing punish itself, and I don't want to put up with that. _

_Oh, and I haven't told you the worst part yet! This new husband of hers is a complete prick. He tried to flatter me with stupid crap about how my bloodline is noble, and when I wasn't having any of it he actually had the nerve to tell my parents that I'm just going through a phase! I'd barely said five words to the man and he thought he was qualified to tell my parents what I was going through! Living with him for three weeks is going to be a bloody nightmare! He thinks he's so great just because he has more money than the royal family and he's got these stupid colorless eyes that you could just fall into and this stupid silky blond hair that I can't stop wanting to touch and this stupid body that he must have stolen from a god and... I just don't like him. What's really odd though is that I would swear that I know him. I mean, he's the right age to have gone to school with us for a few years, but it's more than that, you know? _

_So, how—_

**Crack. **

Sirius jumped when the elf appeared. His hand jerked and he sent a jagged line across and up through the last few sentences.

"_What_?" He hissed.

As it groveled he took a closer look at the damage and sighed. Well, It wasn't pretty, but James would still be able to read it. At least he wouldn't need to rewrite it.

"Mistress Walburga Black requires Master Sirius Black in the sitting room," The creature said quietly.

Sirius sighed and followed it out, leaving the unfinished letter where it was on the desk in his temporary room.

When he reached the sitting room, his mother was standing beside the door wrapped in one of her thicker robes, with one of Sirius' warmer traveling cloaks in hand. Sirius' heart sank.

"Sirius," Her voice was as hard and as cold as ice, "Let's go for a walk."

_She has to be kidding..._

"Outside?" Sirius verified.

His mother raised an eyebrow. "Usually people don't take aimless walks through a crowded house, particularly if there is something private they wish to discuss."

Sirius rolled his eyes, but still didn't move toward her or the door. "In December?" What? Was she hoping that she could get him lost and that he'd freeze to death?

"I hadn't planned on waiting here until January." She held the cloak out.

After a moment of consideration, Sirius decided that he'd best take it. She wasn't going to let him get out of taking the walk with her, but he wouldn't put it past her to decide not to let him take the cloak if he hesitated for too long.

Even still, he continued to try to subtly point out the insanity in this. "At night?"

His mother looked out the window at the dark sky, "It would appear so."

"And to you this sounds... normal?"

The muscles in his mother's face didn't twitch. "To me this sounds like the most convenient way to avoid making a most distasteful scene."

Sirius rolled his eyes, but pulled his boots on anyway.

She opened the door and gestured outside, "Their gardens are lovely, even at this time of year. After you, please."

"Oh," Sirius sneered, going where she directed him, "As long as the flowers are pretty."

* * *

_Sweet Slytherin, it **hurt**. _

The moment Regulus Black bounced out of the study, closing the door ever-so-politely behind him, Lucius sank into the nearest chair, clutching his forearm and hissing.

"Darling..." Narcissa was on her knees by his side in a moment, prying his arm away and rolling up his sleeve. Though she knew very well that it was there, it still seemed to shock her to find the Dark Mark slowly burning itself into his skin, "...It hurts **that** much?"

Lucius gritted his teeth and nodded, "It alternates between being mildly sensitive to the touch and being indescribably painful."

"Should it be doing that?" She asked, looking up at him with wide eyes, "Is He summoning you?"

"Yes and no," Lucius told her, sucking in a deep breath and relaxing a little, apparently as the pain lessened. "It should keep hurting like this for a few more days, until the Mark is completely burnt in. He isn't summoning me though..." At her look of confusion he elaborated, "It feels different when he does. This is too consistent."

"You should talk to Rodolphus about it," She told him, frowning up at him sympathetically and wondering if she would only hurt him more if she touched it.

"And embarrass myself in front of your sister?" He shook his head and rose, pulling her to her feet with him. "Thank you, darling, for the suggestion, but I don't think so." He forced a smile, "It's not that bad, and it's already dulling."

"But Rodolphus could help you," Narcissa cooed, "And it won't be embarrassing! He's been there too."

"Did I say I was worried about Rodolphus?" He kissed her forehead. "Your sister already doesn't think I'm man enough for you."

Narcissa rolled her eyes, "You're not still upset because she called you a pretty boy, are you? Her own husband's twenty-six years old and scared to death of **mice**! They've hardly any right to judge you for being in genuine pain and showing it a little."

Lucius waved a dismissive hand, "Bella doesn't know what kind of pain I'm in. She hasn't been there."

"Well, I wish you'd tell her!" Narcissa cried, before stepping back and frowning, "She'd like to know, you know. She'd like to be there."

"I'm sorry?"

Narcissa sighed, "She's been saying since we were children that she's going to be the first witch to officially join the Dark Lord."

Lucius thought about it for a moment and nodded, "She could do it, too."

"Don't say that!"

Lucius stepped back from her and held up his hands defensively. "Very well! I meant it as a compliment."

"And only she and our father would take it as one."

"Then let us discuss something else..." Something passed through his eyes. Narcissa couldn't quite place what it was, but she didn't like it... "Your cousin is an interesting boy."

Narcissa nodded, "But you could have kicked him out sooner if you were in pain."

Lucius stopped and looked at her strangely for a moment. "Oh! No, the other one."

"Sirius? He's a disgrace!"

Lucius smirked, "He doesn't seem so bad."

"He's a thousand times worse than the last person my family disowned was at his age," Narcissa muttered, "My parents have been placing bets on when his will disown him."

"And suppose that neither of them wins?"

"Do you have a bet of your own you'd like to place?"

Lucius seemed to actually consider the matter for a moment before he shook his head, "Not a formal one, but I meant what I told his parents. It's a phase. A reckless, awkward, and unpleasant phase for everyone involved, but a phase no less."

"**He** didn't seem to take very kindly to that idea," Narcissa pointed out.

"When do teenagers ever take kindly to being told that they are wrong?" But before she had a chance to answer, he sighed, "But I had I known he would take **that** **much** offense to it I would have waited to say it. I don't seem to have made the greatest first impression on him."

Narcissa huffed, "He likes you about as well as he likes anyone else in the family."

"No one else in the family is still trying to prove himself to it."

"Oh, Lucius, stop worrying about that! My family loves you!"

"—It's two eldest children seem to rather despise me."

Narcissa rolled her eyes, "Bella does not despise you. I've never, not once in my life, dated a man that Bella thought was good enough for me. If she'd had her way I'd have died a virgin living with her and Rodolphus."

Lucius smiled, "Fair enough. But you don't deny that your family's **heir** hates me."

Narcissa shrugged, "I've already told you: He hates **everyone**. And I still believe that he's going to be disowned, so if I were you I wouldn't worry too much about him being my family's heir. Your time and your energy would be better invested in Regulus."

Lucius smirked, "The greater the risk the greater the reward, no? If you don't care what Sirius thinks of you than he can think what he wants—you're cousins and I'm sure he will no matter what efforts I make to change his thoughts—but I'd rather he not be **my** enemy."

"Then go and talk to him."

"I believe I will." Lucius moved toward the door.

In a fit of near desperation, Narcissa caught his wrist, "He won't be in his room! His mother mentioned going for a walk with him."

"Then I'll wait up there until he returns." Lucius pulled away and set off once again for the spare room.

There was something there. Something in his eyes... "Lucius!"

"Hm?" His mind was already up with Sirius. Would there be any use in asking now?

"...Why do you... Why does this matter so much to you? Really?" _None of that family bull-crap. We both know that isn't it. _

Lucius looked distant, "Do you feel guilty?"

"About what?"

Lucius looked surprised. "Back when we were teenagers—"

"We got into less trouble than most. I've no regrets. What does it have to do with my cousin?"

He pause for a moment. He was so close to telling her that she could **see** the words sitting on his lips. And then...

"Nothing. It doesn't matter. I just need to do this."

Narcissa sighed as she watched the door close.

So it began.

She sank into the nearest chair and bit her nail. It was going to be a long holiday.

* * *

Within ten minutes Sirius wasn't sure just _what_ he was screaming at his mother. He fought with her so often that by this point they were both out of new things to say, and tended to fall back on insults that they had already thrown at each other a thousand times. Whoever could go the longest without their voice wearing out was considered the winner of the fight. Occasionally, though, Sirius could catch a bit of his own conversation.

"—Stupid little Gryffindor brat—"

"—Heartless old crone—"

"—like you're **trying** to drive **your own parents** to early graves—"

"—never gave a shit about **me** as long as I'm not muddying your bloodline—"

"—thousands of generations of Blacks—"

"—except for Andromeda and a thousand others—"

And then they both stopped. That was a new one. Sirius had never said that before. But he just had. He had said **It**. He had mentioned the unmentionable. He had used the A word.

His mother's voice dropped to a dangerous hiss. "How _dare_ you," She snarled, "Mention _that_ **here**."

Sirius smiled. She had stopped yelling. He had won. "Are you going to send me to my room?"

"I should ban you from going back inside!"

"So you're disowning me?" He asked calmly, before throwing on a mask of childlike-delight, "Oh goody! I get my Christmas gift early?"

She glared at him. For a moment Sirius expected her to huff and walk away, thus sealing his victory.

He let his guard down, and that was it. In a flash she had an iron grip on his ear, and there was nothing he could do about it.

* * *

_She doesn't remember._

Lucius could see it in her eyes. She really didn't remember what they had done. She _knew_, surely, but she seemed to have filed it away under the ever growing list of Things They Didn't Think About, and now she wouldn't remember unless Lucius **said** it. He had no intention of ever saying it.

Perhaps it wasn't his fault. In fact, it **probably** wasn't his fault. He'd been the one holding the wand, sure, but... Well, he was only obeying orders! Not that he could really remember who was **giving** the orders... tradition, he supposed.

Yes. It had all been about the tradition, and tradition never hurt anyone, right?

_A memory, one of a blond boy not much older than the Black heir, brushed across his mind._

Of course tradition never hurt anyone. It wouldn't remain a tradition if it did.

_The boy knelt in the shower, the one place in a boarding school where you can be sure you won't be disturbed, and he was unable to stop the tears. _

At least, it didn't hurt anyone when it wasn't justified in doing so.

_It wasn't a __**physical**__ pain, but it was __**a**__ pain, no less. Like an iron grip on the back of the back of his neck, constantly reminding him and commanding him. Never mind what __**he**__ wanted, it was nearly impossible to disobey it... It just wouldn't let go... _

Oh, it was **Narcissa's** fault! Surely she'd known...

He sighed and sank into the desk, just barely avoiding knocking over the bottle of ink that sat on it.

And then his eyes fell on the letter. Ah. Good. A distraction... Should he? No, but in the words of Oscar Wilde, _"More than half of modern culture depends on what one shouldn't read..."_

* * *

She really was a bitter old bitch. It was unfortunate, yes, but it was one of those things that was not going to change, and that Sirius had long ago learned to deal with. After the small interruption that Sirius' thoughtless use of the A word had caused, their fight had returned to normal.

She had not abandoned him out in the cold, but rather pulled him, kicking and screaming, by his ear back inside, and quietly ordered him back to his room, where he had been more than happy to quietly go. It wasn't as though he had ever wanted to leave. He still needed to finish his letter to James (who didn't even have to be there to be more pleasant to talk to than anyone else in the house) and with any luck it would be warm by now...

When Sirius opened the door to the room that was acting as his for the duration of his stay, he immediately noticed two things. The first was that it was indeed warm now. Even warmer, than the rest of this area of the manor, for that matter. Good. Sleeping in an ice-box tended to leave Sirius in a bad mood, which would only mean even more fights with... everyone... in the morning.

The second was that Lucius Malfoy was sitting in the desk, smirking devilishly down at Sirius' unfinished letter.

"Where I'm from," Sirius said darkly, "It's a serious breach of trust and etiquette to read another's mail."

The Malfoy heir looked up, and the smirk stayed in place. "Where I'm from—**here**—we're taught that if we don't want people to see things, we shouldn't leave them out in the open."

"My room is hardly out in the open."

"If this were actually your room I might concede at that. As it is, it's my house and I will go where I please inside of it. You weren't here when I knocked, so I let myself in, and there this was out in the open."

"And you think that's a good enough excuse?"

He laughed slightly, "Good enough for what?"

"It's traditional to desire someone's forgiveness after you've wronged them. Even I can appreciate that tradition, so a good nobleman like you ought to live by it."

Malfoy smiled and rose to his feet. "I do. I actually came here seeking forgiveness... However, I don't quite feel that I need it for the letter."

"Why is that? Even you can't—"

"You called me a prick, a nightmare, and..." his eyes swooped over the letter, "Stupid. Five times. I think we're about even."

"You weren't ever supposed to see that."

The blond's eyebrows raised, "Is it acceptable, where you're from, to talk badly about someone behind their back, as long as they never find out?" At a moment's hesitation from Sirius, he frowned, "They believe such odd things in the city..."

Sirius smirked, "My parents believe many odd things, granted, but their views on name-calling are not among the more worrisome." He flicked a lock of hair back behind his ear, "Alright. We'll both just pretend the whole business with the letter never happened."

"Perfect," Malfoy took a step toward Sirius and extended his hand, "I came up here to say that I'm sorry for judging you so quickly. I hadn't meant to upset you like that."

Sirius looked at the hand appraisingly. "Are you sorry for saying it, or sorry that it upset me?"

Lucius' face went blank, and Sirius knew the answer before he gave it, "The latter. Is that unacceptable?"

When he had asked the question, Sirius had meant to defiantly tell Malfoy that he could never accept the apology unless he was sorry for what he had actually done, but something about the look in the blond's eyes made him stop.

"Come on." Lucius smiled—not smirked, but smiled—and took another step closer, "Accept the apology and you can touch my hair."

"Wha—?"

"I read the letter, remember?"

"Right." Sirius said bitterly.

"Do we have a deal?"

"You aren't **that** attractive."

"Aren't I? You seemed rather hung up on my looks in your letter. Your friend would probably side with me on that... By the way, would it be grossly over-stepping my boundaries to ask who this boy is and why you're referring to him as your 'dearest'?"

"You really aren't, he would take my side, and yes it would," Sirius hissed.

Lucius stepped back defensively, "Alright. A new angle then. Don't forgive me. Spend the rest of this break quietly hating my guts, if you will—"

"I plan to."

"—But I don't want you as my enemy. We can feel however we like about each other, but let's at least give each other our words that we won't make life unnecessarily difficult for each other."

Sirius thought about that for a moment. It seemed like a harmless enough promise...

"Agreed," He said, extending his own hand this time.

Lucius smirked. "No."

"No what?"

"Not like that." The blond walked nonchalantly past Sirius' outstretched hand, and tilted the Black heir's chin up. "Your cousin has told me more stories about you than you would approve of. I don't trust a promise sealed with your hand."

"Were you hoping for an Unbreakable Vow?"

Lucius laughed, "Nothing nearly so extreme."

"Then what?"

"A kiss."

Sirius' mind screeched to a halt.

Lucius laughed, "Your a Gryffindor. Gryffindor chivalry would never allow you to break a promise sealed on your lips."

Sirius couldn't argue with that. It was totally insane, of course, but that actually only made it even harder to counter. He nodded. "Alright then."

Much like seeing Lucius for the first time, kissing Lucius for the first time was not exactly the most magical experience of Sirius' life. The blond was skilled enough, but that meant very little when there wasn't even the smallest bit of love between them. Sirius felt a thousand emotions pulsing through him as Lucius' tongue slid along his lip, but none of them were love. He was still angry at Lucius, but undeniably attracted to him. He could think of a thousand reasons why he should pull away, the one reason why he shouldn't seemed to be overpowering all of them...

But Lucius broke the kiss before Sirius could drive himself mad over it.

Sirius wanted to say something, but didn't know what. 'Well, that's settled...' felt vastly out of place, but 'You have such beautiful eyes!' was hardly any better. Sirius didn't even want to think about the incredible awkwardness of 'Narcissa is a very lucky woman...'

Luckily, Lucius found the only appropriate thing in relatively little time, "Goodnight, Sirius."

Sirius nodded. "Goodnight." He was sure he looked like a confused child.

Lucius walked out of the room grinning as though he'd gotten quite a bit more than Sirius had agreed to give him.

The black heir dropped back into the desk, shaking, and looked over his letter. Should he tell James about this? No. He couldn't. Not yet, anyway. He did his best to steady his hand, though try as he might he couldn't stop himself from trembling just a bit, and did his best to finish as though nothing had happened.

_So, how is your break, so far? How are your parents? _

...He couldn't go on. He knew he had wanted to ask James a lot more, but try as he might now he couldn't think of anything else. Damn Lucius. It was bad enough that he had to hang around being... well... **him**, but now he was keeping Sirius from even talking to James properly!

But there was nothing Sirius could do about it but get to bed and hope that he could sleep it all off. Glad to have one of his days at Malfoy Manor over, he quickly finished the letter.

_Write as soon as you can. I'll go mad without some outside contact. _

_Happy Holidays! _

_~Padfoot. _


	4. Cold

**Author's Note:**** I'm am **_**so**_** sorry that it's taken me so long to update! I truly wish that I could promise you that I'll do better next time, but the new school year has just started, and while I **_**think**_** that I will have a sudden mass of free-time at least once a week, that isn't certain and it has no baring on what my muse wants, so I really can't promise anything. Just know that I do my best. I really didn't even get as far as I'd wanted to with this chapter, but I think it's more than long enough now, and I know that I really need to update this, so I've decided to split the chapter. I'll update again when I can. Thank you so much for staying with me. **

* * *

Sirius knew that he would have to go back inside eventually. After all, it was, undeniably, bloody _cold_ out here, even with a mild warming spell cast on his clothing. It was also so late that it was getting early, and Sirius knew that eventually his mother would send people out looking for him. Not because she would want to know that _he_ was safe, of course, but because she would want to know that the rest of their sheltered little world was safe from him.

Lucius Malfoy had effectively robbed Sirius of everything even remotely resembling sleep. Sirius had settled under the covers and spent about two hours going through the motions, but his mind _just wouldn't shut up_, and the next thing he knew he was out here, on the bloody five-story-high roof—It hadn't taken the marauder long to find the right string of windows and balconies to climb—trying to drown his troubles in a long drag of his third-to-last cigarette and wondering how the Hell he would manage to slip away from his mother and get another pack... Did Rodolphus smoke? Sirius vaguely remembered his cousin lecturing her then-fiancé on the matter once. Maybe he could steal a few from him...

He watched the snowflakes drift to the ground. It was difficult to see much of anything with the sun rising _behind_ him, but that was just as well. Even in the shadows, Sirius could tell that this property stretched forever. It reminded him of the grounds of Hogwarts. The garden turned into a Quidditch Pitch, and the Quidditch Pitch's boundaries were kept on one side by the edge of a forest, which ran on for miles until Sirius thought that he could _almost_ see another mansion out there.

Sirius didn't like it. It made Hogwarts look so... unimpressive, and that was the one thing that Hogwarts should never look.

There was a scrape from below as a window on the fifth story was opened. Sirius held still and listened, waiting for an adult to cuss and mutter about the weather before slamming it shut again.

That never came.

Instead, Sirius heard a small grunt, followed by the soft thud of boots on a window ledge. Regulus.

_But how could he know? _

Well, Sirius didn't have time to worry about it. Sirius put his cigarette out and moved as quickly and as quietly as he could to a vaulted area of the ceiling and hid himself behind the raised section.

When he first heard the steady crushes of footfalls on the snow, he considered transforming, but he quickly thought better of it. Sure, he would be smaller and it would be easier to hide, but what would Regulus do if he found a _dog_ on the _roof_? His brother was an ardent animal lover, so Sirius didn't fear any harm coming to him in that form, but if Regulus decided to bring the lost puppy inside, things could get complicated. Sirius contented himself to try twisting his human body into the smallest surface area possible, and waited for the danger to pass.

The soft crunches continued to echo through the night air as the figure causing them drew nearer. They got louder and louder with every step, until Sirius was certain that his brother was practically on top of him, but Sirius saw nothing.

Then they stopped. For a full minute, Sirius didn't hear a sound.

Then enough snow to fill a cauldron fell on his head.

"_Regulus_**!**" He snarled his brother name like a curse word, but when he opened his eyes, his culprit was still no where to be seen. No longer concerned with keeping his location a secret, he sprang to his feet for a better view of the roof. The movement made him painfully aware of several chunks of snow that had found their way into his clothing, and he swore. "Where the fuck are you?!" He called into the night.

No answer.

"Don't be a pansy! I know you're there!"

Silence.

"The longer you wait, the angrier I'm going to become, and the more I'm going to hurt you," Sirius informed the younger boy casually. "Really, you'll be doing yourself a favor if you come out now."

There was a small thud, followed by the unmistakable sound of a window slamming.

"You little brat!" Sirius darted back to the roof above his own window, and was one fast movement away from being off the roof when a harsh voice startled him.

"What the bloody _hell_ do you think you're doing?!"

Sirius froze.

"Don't even _try_ it!" Bellatrix called, leaning out of her own window on the fourth story. "You've been shouting your head off. The whole village has probably heard you!"

"And what are you going to do about that?" Sirius responded hotly.

"Rodolphus!" Bella yelled back into her room, "Get up there and get him!"

Sirius couldn't make out the mumbled reply.

"I will not!" Bella cried. She skimmed the wall with her eyes until she located Sirius, glared, and then ducked back inside and slammed her window.

She was throwing on her shoes and pulling on a winter robes, no doubt. Sirius didn't have much time.

He squatted and threw himself over the edge of the roof. He dangled there for a moment, ignoring the pain as the rough stone cut into his hands. He lined his body up with the fifth-story window below him, and dropped.

In the summer, he probably would have landed it easily. In the winter, however, his right foot fell onto the slight imprint left when he'd climbed up that window earlier, and time slowed as the snow moved underneath him and his right leg twisted and shot off the ledge, throwing off Sirius' balance and sending him with it.

Bellatrix screamed. Sirius felt his gut do a back-flip before he began to tumble through the air in slow motion. By the time his the side of his face made contact with the ledge, half of his life had flashed before his eyes. The left side of his body hit the wall, and his felt his skin slice open in a dozen places. His eyes screwed shut. He couldn't watch himself fall.

His gut flipped again, as though he'd been tossed over, and after another minute, he realized that he'd stopped, and that there was something solid beneath his feet.

He could hear shallow breaths that he knew were his, and voices that he couldn't quite place—though they _were_ familiar—in front of him. He tried to open his eyes, and was humiliated to discover that he'd frozen them shut with tears on the way down. When he rubbed them open, a wave of dizziness brought him to his knees. He barely avoided losing his dinner all over the floor.

"Sirius? Sirius?!" It was undeniably Bella's voice, but Sirius was too miserable to care. He was pulled to his feet and deposited on a near-by love-seat, and he felt his cousin sit down next to him. "Sirius, can you hear me? Are you alright?"

He nodded and forced a sound that was meant to be a 'yes' but came out as more of a moan.

For a moment, there was no response.

Then she slapped him. "Don't ever do that again!" She sighed. "Rodolphus," she said tightly, "Watch him while I get his mother."

Sirius couldn't object. He stretched himself out on the seat, buried his head in the material, and focused on making the room stop spinning.

After a couple of minutes, he opened his eyes and found Rodolphus sitting on his bed, watching him mistrustfully. They stared at each other for thirty seconds, before Sirius decided that he had to say _something_ and settled on, "Did you save me or did Bella?"

"Me." He said flatly.

"Thank you..." Sirius told him. He sat up slowly and, when the room remained more-or-less stationary, sighed spoke again, "I'm going to _kill_ Regulus..."

Rodolphus smirked and shook his head. "Give him a break."

"Why should I?" Sirius demanded. "That was _his_ fault!"

"No one got hurt," Rodolphus shrugged. Sirius glanced down at the thick scrapes on both of his palms and down the right side of his body, but the Lestrange heir went on before he had time to verbally disagree. "And in ten years you're going to inherit everything and the best he can hope for is to be an annoying tag-along to your life, and when that happens, you'll wish you'd treated him better."

"I doubt that," Sirius said bitterly.

"Which bit?"

"All of it." It was the truth.

Rodolphus just shrugged.

He wanted to make a run for it, but he knew it would be useless. The odds of him honestly getting past an adult wizard—one that he was reasonably certain was a Death Eater, at that—were slim, but even if he did manage that, it was highly unlikely that he could even make it to his room before his mother got to him. Even if he _could_ make it back to his room and somehow manage to throw his pajamas on, cast a spell to hide his cuts, and fling himself into bed by the time anyone reached him, it wouldn't make the slightest bit of difference, because his mother would believe Bellatrix and Rodolphus—or, honestly, even a house elf—over Sirius any day.

When Bellatrix returned, she had Sirius' entire family at her heals. Regulus' smirk instantly erased any doubt that Sirius had about it being him on the roof.

But before Sirius had a chance to pounce on him, his father had him by the hair.

"The roof, Sirius?! At six in the morning?!"

"Regulus was—"

"Leave your brother out of this!"

"But it's his—"

"What were you thinking?!"

Sirius looked at his father and sighed. Orion sighed back.

"Go," Orion said, at long last. "Clean yourself up. Your mother and I need to make some changes to your accommodations."

Sirius muttered every curse-word he knew as he stormed away. He would let them have his room for a while—he was sure they just wanted to glue his window shut and they'd be off—but cleaning himself up would wait. He hadn't needed a cigarette this badly since he and Wormtail had nearly been caught sneaking food down to the Shack last month.

Ten minutes later, Sirius found himself in the garden, curled up on the only bench that had been shielded from the snow by the rose-vine-covered walls, watching smoke drift up against the snowflakes. The sun was casting a blue twilight over everything around. Snow was still falling, steadily though not thickly, and Sirius had cast three different heating spells on himself and the stone beneath him in order to stay warm.

"Smoke too many of those and you'll turn into one, you know."

Sirius laughed and took another drag. "I already have."

Lucius Malfoy smiled. "I got that feeling back in your room. Do you mind if I sit down?"

Sirius moved over. "Whatever happened to you owning everything and being allowed to do what you want?"

"We called a truce, didn't we?"

Sirius nodded and made the smallest attempt to keep his smoke out of Lucius' face.

Lucius eyed the cigarette. "Really, though, your parents wouldn't approve of that."

"My parents don't approve of anything fun," Sirius shrugged.

"No parents do," Lucius informed him.

_James' do,_ Sirius almost said... but Lucius didn't need to know about James. Instead, he sighed and wondered, "Does it ever stop?"

"Of course," Lucius responded certainly.

Sirius raised his eyebrows.

"... When they die."

Sirius laughed despite himself. He didn't even pull away when Lucius ran a hand though his hair and tucked behind his ear.

"You should pull your hair back. It'd look better."

"Better?"

"Neater," he corrected. "And your mother might let your grow it out more if you did."

"How do you know my mother won't let me grow it out?"

Lucius laughed. "We have more in common than you think."

Sirius shook his head, "I really doubt that."

For a moment, Lucius looked like he was going to argue, but then he changed his mind. He watched Sirius for a moment before running a hand down his arm. "You had a very close call up there, didn't you?"

"Well..." Sirius took a long drag of his cigarette, and decided to go with the least cowardly answer. "I'm a Quidditch player so... shit happens. It was no big deal."

"Oh really?" Lucius did not appear impressed.

Sirius blushed, and instantly hated himself for it. "Yeah." He turned away from Lucius under the guise of keeping smoke out of the other man's eyes.

"Have you looked at the damage yet?" Lucius wondered.

Sirius turned back around. "No. How bad is it?"

Lucius was quiet for a moment. "Shall we?"

"What?"

Lucius looked Sirius over. "I can heal most of this..."

"Oh," Sirius replied, unsure of what else to say.

Lucius' hands went to the clasp on Sirius' robes. "May I?"

"...Yes." Sirius permitted, deciding after a moment that there wasn't _too much_ harm in it.

Lucius opened Sirius' robes, and slid them over his shoulders. Sirius stood, outside in the falling snow, in nothing but the baggy pants he had attempted to sleep in. Though heating spells kept his body at a bearable temperature, he was instantly chilly. He wouldn't cast another heating spell, though. He wouldn't even fidget or shiver, if he could help himself. It was bad enough that he was letting another man tend to such small wounds for him. He wasn't going to show any more weakness. He didn't want Lucius thinking he was just some weak little child...

"Lumos..." Sirius muttered.

Lucius blinked until his eyes adjusted to the new light, then thanked Sirius.

Sirius found himself inclined to stand very still as Lucius Malfoy's eyes roamed over him. He looked down to examine the damage himself, but otherwise didn't move. The left side of his body was relatively unharmed, but the right was a mess of gashes and dark bruises. His back was stiff, and though he couldn't speak for bruises, he could feel the cuts lightly stinging in a hundred different places.

Pale fingers began to trace all of it carefully. Sirius fought not to so much as gasp Lucius' finger ran over open wounds, before it returned to feeling the curves of Sirius' muscles. The actions were almost painfully slow, and though Sirius didn't entirely mind the small stings, he couldn't understand the point of them. Lucius had a pensive look on his face, as though he wasn't entirely aware of what he was doing.

Sirius was nervous. For the first time, he wished he was a beater or a chaser, rather than a seeker. Years of Quidditch practice had kept him in very good health, but his was a position where it was far more valuable to be _light_ than to be _strong_, and for the first time in his life, he was worried that it showed. What had Lucius looked like when he was a fifth year? If Sirius had ever known, he didn't remember...

Lucius ran a hand across Sirius' cheek, and pulled it away covered in blood.

Their eyes met. Sirius could see _pity_. It stung.

Sirius found himself suddenly deeply regretting this. He wished that Lucius would insult him. Call him weak. Say that if he just hadn't been such an idiot, it wouldn't have happened. _Anything_ so that Sirius could lash out and prove that he didn't need help, from Lucius or from anyone else in this stupid family...

Lucius sighed, and raised his wand.

"_Sirius!_" Both boys jumped. Narcissa was heading down the path toward them, clutching her winter robes to herself and glaring at them. "What _are_ you two doing out here?"

"I... er... he... we were—" Sirius began.

Lucius tapped his wand on Sirius' chest and hissed a spell. The cuts on Sirius' body quickly stitched themselves and the bruises vanished. "I was just fixing your cousin up, dearest," Lucius informed his wife.

"And you couldn't have done that inside?" Narcissa wondered. She quickly pulled her husband in close and wrapped her arms around him.

Lucius shrugged. "I found him out here." He forced Narcissa to give him enough room to scoop Sirius' robes up off the ground, and then trust them back into Sirius' hands and turned away without giving Sirius another glance.

Narcissa gave Sirius a cold stare for a moment, before she nodded and leaned into Lucius.

Sirius averted his eyes as he pulled his outer robes back over his shoulders. He didn't need to ask what she was thinking.

Lucius and Narcissa made it back inside first, and instantly detached themselves and moved in opposite directions without a word to each other. Sirius considered asking them what had suddenly gotten into them, but thought better of it.

Just as Sirius was stepping over the threshold, an owl screeched.

Sirius forced himself not to get too hopeful, and turned around.

It was his own owl! Which could only mean that James was replying already...

Sirius let the bird land on his arm, but he immediately pulled the parchment from it's leg and half-raced into the dinning-room, not caring about Narcissa's annoyed murmurs over him leaving a trail of wet footprints all over the wood floors.

He collapsed onto a chair and unrolled the letter, breathing easy for the first time since his arrival.

_My favorite dog,_

_What the Hell? You miss me already? It really must be horrible there!_

_Yet here I am, replying at three in the bloody morning. It's not bad here, though. I just can't sleep. And sneaking down to the kitchens isn't nearly as much fun when the kitchen is only a floor below and the only thing "in the way" is one bloody elf who'd give me anything I asked for anyway. Merlin. The gifts'll be nice and all, but the full moon is in four days and I wish we could all properly celebrate it._

_Never__? Dragon shit. You'd forgiven me by the time you'd sealed the letter, and you know it. _

_But what's done is done, right? Are you implying that you'd like me to kidnap you next holiday? It wouldn't kill my parents to give up one of the guest bedrooms for the summer, you know. Or you could just hide under my bed and I'd feed you table scraps, like any other puppy that followed me home. Whichever works for you. The first option would be more comfortable for you, but since you seem to think you need constant looking after, things might be easier if I keep you as close as possible._

_Sirius, I'm ashamed of you! All of your stuck-up relatives in one place talking about how horrible you are for not seeing how great they are? How can you not see the opportunities there? Never has getting disowned been made so easy..._

_That's really rotten luck on your room. _

_Way to sound like a poof, Padfoot. I'll be keeping that letter and blackmailing you with it later. _

_If he's such a bastard, just avoid him. You have your own room, don't you? And don't the Malfoys have some huge manor with kilometers of land?_

_Of course, you're always welcome to slip away and come here. You have a fireplace in your room? Snag some floo powder and get over here sometime when it's too late for anyone to notice. I promise that __I'll__ keep you warm._

_Malfoy? Slytherin prefect our first and second year and head boy our third? We had detention with him once or twice. Mystery solved. Now stop thinking about him. _

_My break has been alright. Mum and dad insisted on taking me out to dinner and making me talk until my jaw fell off about the semester and my grades and detention and Quidditch and the fucking weather. And then they gave me a detailed report of everything (which, thankfully, isn't much) that's happened around here in the last two and a half months. When I got home it was too late to try to round anyone up for a game of Quidditch, so I just hung out and did a little bit of homework. I must be jinxed or something, though, because I'm dead tired and I can't get a moment of sleep. Your owl showed up at two in the morning, and normally I'd have killed it and you, but tonight I was just glad for the excuse to get up.  
_

_My parents are fine. Mum's getting fatter, but it's alright because dad's getting blinder. (Count your blessings, Padfoot. You have no idea what it's like to have old parents.) They're suffocating me already, but... it's good to be home? I think I can talk them into buying me the new Comet 360._

_Still__ holding your leash, _

—_Prongs _


	5. The Great Escape

**Author's Note: ****This chapter isn't anywhere near where I'd originally wanted to finish it, honestly, but when it hit nine pages, I figured I should probably split it. I'll upload the rest when I can. (I've got a lot of other things to finish as well. God, I'm so behind!) As a result of the split, Lucius isn't in this one. (Instead, there is gratuitous amounts of James/Sirius. If you can't handle that, you'd best skip this chapter.) I'm sorry. Please enjoy it anyway. **

* * *

_'Dear Everyone: Have gone somewhere. Will be back eventually. –Sirius'_

His mother was going to kill him for that note, but Sirius Black wasn't in the right frame of mind to care. He was tired, the bed was warm, and his legs were entwined with those of his now sleeping best friend. He never wanted to leave.

Maybe he shouldn't. James' parents were cool, no matter what James seemed to think. You didn't let a strange boy walk into your house at six in the morning and climb into bed with your son without being reasonably cool people. They probably wouldn't mind if he stayed for a little while longer...

His own eyes were getting heavy. With Lucius out of sight and out of mind, it was easier to relax, and James' deep breaths were making him feel like they were back in their dormitory, calming him ever further. He could feel himself being lulled to sleep...

He knew that it was a bad idea to drift off. If he fell asleep now, it was anyone's guess when he'd wake up, and he really should get back on time for breakfast. Yet the calm look on James' dreaming face promised him that everything would be alright, and Sirius wasn't entirely sure that he cared if everything _wasn't_ going to be alright. Maybe if he just rested his eyes for a second. One second couldn't hurt...

Someone ribbed him.

He turned around to snap at his mother, and instead fell right into an open-mouthed kiss from his best friend. When he realized what was going on, he pulled away and hid his embarrassment in a chuckle. "Good morning to you, too."

He'd forgotten where he was. That meant... Oh _fuck_.

"Morning." James didn't seem to notice his distress. "Sleep well?" He scooted backwards until he was resting against the headboard, and waved to Sirius to do the same.

Sirius sat up and slid beside James, offering only an evasive grunt in response. He hadn't slept that well in ages, and he didn't know if he owed that to the setting or to the boy. He didn't want to find out.

An elf levitated trays onto both of their laps.

"It's really lunchtime," James explained, "but I was more in the mood for breakfast."

Sirius blinked. The tray in front of him was piled with bacon and eggs and more ham than he could possibly eat in one sitting, and there was even a cinnamon roll with an entire dish of frosting in the corner. "What time is it?" he double-checked. It was _lunch time?_ But surely the elf hadn't **just** cooked all of this?

James shoved a forkful of eggs into his mouth and pointed to a clock on the wall opposite them. 12:09 in the afternoon, and they were sitting in bed, still in their pajamas, barely beginning their breakfast.

"My parents would **kill** me."

James shrugged. "Mine don't care. Especially when I have a guest."

Sirius looked at him in disbelief. "I turned up at six in the morning, crawled into bed **with you**, and didn't get up until noon. If you did the same, my parents would kill you _first_ and make me watch."

"Then why'd you do it?"

Sirius was quiet. He wasn't about to tell James that he was fleeing what he was reasonably certain was a growing attraction to **his cousin**, albeit by marriage. That was his parents' thing, and even Regulus was far from proud of the fact.

James seemed to take the silence itself as an answer, and quickly changed the topic. "You're not eating."

"I'm not really hungry."

James raised an eyebrow. "You sure?"

"Yeah."

"You need to eat eventually, Sirius."

"Whatever." Sirius knew very well that he _needed_ eat. He did have the survival skills of an infant. He just couldn't bring himself to. He could barely remember getting a piece of toast and a strip of bacon down at breakfast _yesterday_, but since then his stomach had been in so many knots that even something as plain as a slice of bread sounded repulsive.

James sighed. "Alright. I'll call your bluff." He reached for Sirius' cinnamon roll.

Sirius let him take it.

Surprise flashed across James' face for a millisecond, then he stared at Sirius carefully, searching for any sign of weakness.

Sirius stared back blankly.

James tore a piece off, dipped it in the frosting, and held it within centimeters of his mouth.

Sirius didn't twitch.

James pulled the treat back.

Sirius snorted. "Way to call my bluff, Pr—"

James shoved the food into Sirius' mouth and smirked. "The goal wasn't for _me_ to eat it."

Sirius glared at James, but swallowed the food obediently.

James grinned. "Good boy!"

Sirius opened his mouth to snap at him, but stopped when James' hand grabbed his jaw. James turned Sirius' head until they were looking directly at each other, leaned toward him, and slowly licked the frosting off of Sirius' lips.

Sirius held still, as much from shock as from pleasure. When James let him go, he looked away and picked up his fork, more as a distraction than as an admission of defeat. "You're... affectionate... today."

"And you're... not. Something's bothering you."

"No," Sirius insisted, probably too quickly. He took a deep breath before he went on. "It's nothing..." He stabbed at his eggs unenthusiastically. "I've just been in a lot of fights since we left the station."

"Oh really?"

"Practically every minute."

"Well, you're safe here." James' hand covered Sirius' and guided the fork to Sirius' mouth. "So relax and eat something. You can be such a child sometimes."

Sirius glared at James and swallowed the food. "Says the boy who stuffed Fabian Prewett's bed full of flobberworms because he didn't throw the quaffle to you."

James flicked him in the nose. "Bad Padfoot. We're not going to have a row over which of us is more of a child."

"You started it!" Sirius replied indignantly. "I don't see why I shouldn't be allowed to defend myself!"

"Because if you try, you'll just embarrass yourself."

"Oh really?"

"Padfoot, your **little brother** dressed you yesterday. It's pretty hard to beat that."

Sirius flinched.

"You should've quit while you were ahead." James met Sirius' eyes and sternly ordered him one last time to eat before he returned to wolfing down his own bacon.

Sirius sighed, turned to his breakfast, and slowly but surely ingested every bite. When he'd finished, James rewarded him with a smile and a kiss as an elf appeared and took away the empty trays.

James jumped out of bed, pulled his undershirt over his head, and threw it to the floor. "What now?" James wondered quietly as he dropped his boxers.

Sirius couldn't figure out whether or not he was serious. After several second of trying not to stare while he considered the question, he decided to play it safe and give an answer that would work for either situation. "I really should be getting back, James."

James shook his head. "Not yet." He walked into his closet and began flipping through different articles of clothing.

"Not yet?" Sirius echoed. "That's easy for you to say. _You_ aren't the one whose father's going to beat him senseless for leaving at all."

"And now it's even _easier_ for me to say it," James told him as he stepped out of the closet with an arm full of muggle clothes. He separated them into two outfits and threw one to Sirius. "Get dressed." He ordered.

"Why?"

James smirked. "Because I said so. I have plans and I don't intend to let you leave just yet, so you'll have to come along."

Sirius sighed and slid out of bed. "My father will kill me if he sees me in this stuff." Even as he was saying it, he changed into them.

"No worries," James assured him. "Your father will never see them."

"Thanks, mate. Can I borrow a robe of yours when I go home?"

"Who says you're going home?" James smirked.

Sirius half-glared, but didn't respond. He stared down at his outfit and quickly decided that it looked out of place on him for reasons that went far beyond James not being his size. He didn't know how to wear muggle clothes. He felt silly and restricted and if anyone from school saw him like this he wasn't sure that his social status would ever completely recover.

"You look fine," James assured him.

Sirius still didn't believe it. He located his wand on James' dresser and spelled the tangles from his hair. He doubted that it had helped. "I need a smoke," he sighed.

"Stressed again already?" James asked, nodding toward his desk.

Sirius shrugged. "It's rough going home." He moved shuffled around textbooks and moved a few bundles of Astronomy notes before he located the pack in question and an ashtray, then he immediately lit one up.

James smirked. "So how do you survive the summer?"

Sirius waved. "Normally I deal with the extended family in much smaller doses."

James nodded. He vanished back into his closet and reappeared a minute later with two large black pieces of clothing. He threw one to Sirius.

"No." Sirius told him flatly. Muggle clothes in general were bad. Muggle clothes that would make him look like he'd just gained ten pounds were out of the question.

"Yes," James responded sternly. "Otherwise you'll freeze."

"I'll wear a heating spell."

"And you'll explain that to the muggles we're meeting up with?"

"You taking me to—Well, you can tell them I'm from Norway or something."

James nodded. "Just as soon as you speak a little Norwegian for me."

Sirius sighed.

He _did_ look even sillier after putting the damn thing on, but he consoled himself slightly with the fact that it wasn't James' best look by any stretch of the imagination either.

"I want you on your best behavior," James lectured as he led Sirius through the snow. "These are very old friends of mine—"

"—I don't see why that should mean anything if they're not _better_ friends."

"Unlike _your_ old friends, these guys are actually decent blokes." James' smirk didn't look nearly as innocent as Sirius imagined it was supposed to. "How's _Evan_, by the way?"

"You know that _Rosier_ and I don't speak anymore," Sirius mumbled.

"I know." James shrugged. "But, as I was saying: These are _my_ old friends, and I would really like it if you'd get on well with them, so please _try_ not freak any of them out."

"How would I freak any of them out?"

James stopped and turned to stare at Sirius through the snow. "Absolutely no magic, Sirius. None. Do not **use** magic, do not **mention** magic—In fact, don't even **think** about magic, or anything even remotely related to it."

Sirius snorted, "Well, that's a problem."

"What?"

"I can't not **think** about magic."

James rolled his eyes. "Now you're just being difficult—"

"No, I really can't! Everything in my life is related to magic. Even you."

"Sirius—"

"—James, I mean it." He sighed. "... I... Well..." It was an embarrassing question, but he swallowed his pride and asked it. "What _do_ you talk about with muggles?" Sirius supported equal rights for muggles. He had since he was young, if only because it upset his parents. Cohabitation with them, however, was something Sirius had never really thought about and, now that he _was _thinking about it, would not volunteer himself to try.

Silence rang throughout the small muggle village James had grown up in. At great length, James sighed. He took a moment to mess up his hair before he replied; "**You** don't have to talk about _anything_ with them, I suppose. I'll just drop by, introduce you, and tell them I have to cancel." He pouted.

Sirius got the feeling that he was supposed to be sorry. He wasn't. "Thank you."

James sighed something that sounded remarkably like "You owe me..." and waved for Sirius to follow him as he continued down the street.

They marched for three blocks in silence, then James turned to his left and went through the front gate of an older-looking white house. Sirius followed quietly, wondering how much time he'd be given to pack his things if his parents found out about this.

"Try and stick to one-word answers," James instructed quietly as he led the way to the door. "If you don't **know** how to respond to something, let me handle it. Do** not** try to fake it."

Sirius nodded.

James rang the doorbell.

The woman who answered only appeared to be in her early thirties. Her hair had been dyed an almost-white blonde that reminded him of Lucius—and he kicked himself instantly for thinking about _him_ at a time like this—and she wore more makeup than Sirius had ever seen on another human being before. Sirius was slightly relieved to notice that her clothes were every bit as ridiculous as his. At least he'd match.

"Hello, James!" She said with a clearly-fake smile. Her brown eyes fell on Sirius, and her facade fell for half of a second before she forced the grin back into place. "And who are you?"

Sirius opened his mouth to answer, but James cut him off.

"He's just a friend from my school. Don't worry. We won't be staying."

"Are your sure?" She asked, stepping out of the way and allowing them to enter. "You're welcome to stay for as long as you like."

"Thanks, but no thanks," James told her.

The woman must have decided not to push her luck, because she didn't try to dissuade them again. Instead, she turned and muttered "Tom's in the den," before vanishing into what, from the brief glance that Sirius got of it, must have been the kitchen.

James kicked his boots off and hung his coat on a rack beside the door, and Sirius mimicked him. Without another word, James led Sirius down a flight of stairs, into a large room where five other boys were gathered around a flashing box.

Only three of the five boys even bothered to look at them. The one closest to the box nodded. "Hey, James. Who's the new guy?"

"This is Sirius Black," James explained as Sirius kept staring at the box. There were... _people_ in it...

Sirius become vaguely aware that everyone in the room was staring at him but James.

"_Sirius_?" echoed the boy that James had been speaking to.

"Sirius," Sirius confirmed, wondering what was wrong. People had snickered at his name before, but most people got over it pretty quickly. He was a Black. What did they expect?

Oh.

"His parents are astronomers," James lied. "They're..."

"_Really_ into their work?" One boy tried.

James nodded. "I was going to say crazy, but yeah."

The boys seemed to accept that. Sirius let his eyes return to the box. Something wasn't quite right with the people inside of it, but he couldn't place his finger on just _what_.

"Anyway," James said, "He's a mate of mine from school and, I'm sorry to say, my other engagement for the afternoon."

The boys all began grumblings. "Didn't you know he was coming?" one of them called out.

"Actually, he didn't," Sirius assured them, not taking his eyes off of the box. "I decided to come over this morning on a whim. Sorry."

The boys looked at him oddly. "You just randomly decided to drop in?"

"Yeah." Sirius shrugged. His gaze dropped to the floor.

"Your parents just drove you here because you asked them?"

Sirius paused for a moment. _What?_ Then, he remembered James' instructions on one-word answers. "Yes..." he answered carefully.

James twitched slightly in what looked to Sirius like an attempt not to grimace, but he said nothing.

They all stared at him. "God, your parents must be cool," one boy whispered.

"Crazy." James corrected.

"Where are you from?"

It seemed like a harmless enough question. "Lon—"

"Devon!" James cut him off. "He's from a _very_ small village in Devon. You've probably never heard of it. It's only an hour's drive on a day like this."

"I didn't figure the roads would be that good," the boy nearest to the box said with a shrug.

Everyone looked at Sirius. James gave him a pathetic smile of encouragement.

"... The roads were... good..." Sirius tried, only half sure of what he was talking about. At James' small nod of encouragement, he went on. "Yeah. They're a lot better than you'd think."

The boys seemed to accept this, for the most part.

It was taking all of Sirius' restraint not to ask about the box. The people moved more-or-less like they were in a painting, but Sirius had never seen the _background_ change on a painting...

One of the boys noticed Sirius staring at it. "Are you a Doctor Who fan?" he asked.

"...Yes..." Sirius said slowly. When James didn't cut him off, he nodded. "Kind of."

"We don't get to watch much at school," James told them quickly. "The Headmaster's one of those crazy old men that thinks that the telly's behind everything wrong with this country."

There was a moment of muttering from everyone about how Headmasters are all horrible loonies, as a rule.

"Well," the boy nearest to the TV said, "You can watch now, at least. You **can **stay for a moment and warm-up, can't you?"

James sighed. "I really don't think so." He shot Sirius a brief glare to let him know that if he'd been less of an idiot, they probably would. "Anyway, we couldn't stay until our clothes were completely dry. The snow'd just melt, and we'd be even colder when we left."

The boy shrugged. "Suit yourself. See you around."

"See you."

Sirius led the way upstairs and quickly threw on his boots and his coat. He opted to wait for James on the sidewalk outside rather than in the house. When James finally stepped outside, he struggled to find the right words.

"That... those... er... translation?"

"What?" James asked. To Sirius' dismay, he led them further up the street, rather than back toward his house.

Sirius wrestled with his words for a moment before he decided to tackle one issue at a time. "How can a _road_ be bad?"

"Icy," James explained. "It can be icy."

"And that's bad?"

James nodded. "It makes it hard to drive."

Sirius nodded. "Define 'drive...'"

"A way for muggles to get around. It's like flying, only in one of those." He pointed to a snow-covered metal contraption that reminded Sirius vaguely of a medieval torture device. "And you don't really leave the ground."

"That sounds extremely uncomfortable." Sirius admitted. He wondered what the inside was like, but decided that he probably shouldn't ask.

James smirked. "It's dreadful. Don't ever do it if you can avoid it."

"Noted. And who's that doctor that I'm a fan of?"

"The Doctor is the main character in Doctor Who, which is a show on the telly."

"And the telly...?"

"Is that flashing screen that you were so interested in."

"Ah. And how did he get in there?"

"In where?"

"In the telly!"

James laughed. "He didn't! Don't be ridiculous. He's not real. The actor who plays him's probably off shagging girls in London right now or something. It's just a... well... It's sort of a large string of pictures of him put together, only with sound..."

"So it is like a painting!" Sirius grinned, grateful to have gotten at least that small detail right.

James nodded. "Something of a cross between a painting and a photograph. Any further questions?"

"Why'd you tell them I'm from Devon? I'm not even any good at faking your accent."

"The drive's too far from London. No one would do that on a whim. If they ask about the accent, I'll just tell them you've just moved."

"If you say so."

"Are you satisfied, then?"

Sirius didn't even try to hold back the smirk. "What if I'm not satisfied, James? Would you stop and satisfy me? Usually you satisfy me, but today—"

"_Stop_."

The command came so quickly and so harshly that Sirius instantly regretted saying anything at all.

"For Merlin's sake, Sirius," James hissed, "We're in the _muggle_ world now! Boys have been killed for less than that!" Then he sighed, and his face softened into a small smile. "I can't take you anywhere, can I?"

"You can keep trying," Sirius suggested. "I'm actually a very fast learner."

"This way, then," James led him another block or so before he dragged him into a small shop that Sirius didn't catch the name of. In front of it, large blocks of metal and plastic tubes were too covered in a fresh sheet of snow for Sirius to get a good feel for what they were for, and he didn't think it was a good time to ask James.

The light inside, though bright by normal standards, was a welcome relief from the blinding glare of the sun off the snow. The shop itself was only about as large as Sirius' bedroom, and was filled with shelves upon shelves of candy and junk food. A few small racks in the corners sold various merchandise with "Cornwall" super-imposed over images that, Sirius would wager his entire inheritance, were taken in Ireland. Various useless trinkets that looked to Sirius like toys covered a good chunk of the counter.

James headed for the candy straight for the candy, and Sirius waited quietly by the door. He even managed to hold his tongue when James picked out a heart-shaped box of chocolates and skipped up to the counter with them.

"James!" the man behind the register gasped as he punched some numbers into a register, "you aren't hiding a girl somewhere, are you?"

James blushed as he dug what Sirius could only assume was muggle money out of his pocket. "No, sir. Not exactly..."

The man chucked. "Soon, perhaps?"

"We'll see each other this afternoon," James said shyly, passing over the money. "Who knows what will happen..."

"Well, I wish you luck."

"Thank you." James wasted no time in exiting the store with Sirius at his heels.

"You know Evans'll just throw that away, right?" Sirius asked as they started back toward James' house.

"It's not for her."

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "You're after another girl?"

"_Merlin_, no!" James sneered, as though the very idea was offensive. When he went on, he was almost whispering. "They're for Mooney, but _he_," James nodded back at the store, "doesn't need to know that." His pace quickened as he headed for his house. "Come on! It's already getting late and we've got a delivery to make!"


End file.
